


Purple Might Be Your Color

by Totalspiffage



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, don't even look at me i am gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 08:47:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6797230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Totalspiffage/pseuds/Totalspiffage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Introspective on Kanaya and Rose's developing relationship through the Alpha Timeline and into the new universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purple Might Be Your Color

**Author's Note:**

> It is 2016 and here I am writing goddamn fuckin homestuck fanfic ok BUT JUST TAKE THIS???

The first time you meet the person behind the Snarky Capital Green Letters, she glows. She catches your eye as you land and you smile. It’s her, it has to be. Her dress is a striking red, her horns are mismatched, and she looks a little exhausted. She eyes you as Karkat reads John’s letter aloud, smirking at the phrase “troll/human sloppy makeouts”. You try not to feel a little fluttery. Surely it was just a joke, even Dave is smiling at Terezi about it.

But then again, Kanaya’s not very good at being insincere. She does it now and again, and she’s getting better, but she’s much better at being straightforward. Pun aside, you suppose considering you’re both girls. Not that that’s a thing that matters to trolls anyway.

Your heart clenches as she volunteers to stay behind, but your argument seems to sway her.

She comes and stands near you as the meteor begins to move.

“Thank you for coming with us,” you say, before you can stop your mouth from moving. Dammit. Not so smooth.

She looks at you, and you can see her eyes have specks of her blood color in them, “Thank you for asking me to,” she says, her voice just as smooth and careful as her typing, a rich tone that leaves you wanting to hear it forever.

 

* * *

 

It’s around a few months in that you begin avoiding her. She spends a lot of time with you, and you wonder how long you can keep the bookish seer act up before she realizes you’re not all that smart or as lovely as you want her to think you are.

It takes her a few days to find you, and you apologize by knitting her a sweater for the particularly drafty days.

“This is positively hideous,” she says, laughing lightly, but she wears it anyway. You watch as she pulls it on carefully, avoiding her horns.

“I don’t know,” you say, “Purple might be your color.”

She blushes then, and you avoid her gaze.

 

* * *

 

She retaliates by taking your measurements and making you a dress. It’s got her symbol on the sleeve, and you kind of enjoy that. You contemplate asking if it Means Something, but you decide against it. 

You wonder when you can stop reading too much into peoples’ actions. It’s pretty clear by now that it’s kind of a terrible trait you have. Even your mother was never guilty of the manipulation you’d always accused her of. The lowest common denominator was your own case of common displacement, but you’d always been blind to it. Well, until recently. You are honestly trying to be better.

“Thank you,” you say, giving it a twirl. You smile, hoping it looks genuine as the anxiety floods your brain. She wouldn’t do something like this if she didn’t mean it.

“You look fabulous in it. I’m so happy you like it,” she says, pausing, “You do like it, correct? This isn’t a form of your human inauthenticity?”

She made this for you, you remind yourself, because she’s perfect and kind, not because she wants to play some kind of mind game. You place your hand on her arm and she freezes. Her cheeks glow green and you smile, “I love it, Kanaya. It’s beautiful.”

 

* * *

 

She falls asleep against you so many times you lose count. It’s so hard to sleep with her there, lighting up the room, but you don’t care. She glows so brightly in the darkness of the meteor and your heart swells to bursting. You pet her hair and she makes a noise of contentedness in her sleep.

 

* * *

 

Vriska interrupts your first date and it is mostly your fault she had to in the first place. You can almost hear the 8s in her speech, and you wonder how that is. Perhaps you’ve been with the trolls for too long. The spilled alcohol on the ground mocks you just as much as her lecture.

“Don’t you know how to treat a matesprit right?” No, you think, but you look down at the floor. Kanaya can overhear this whole exchange and she wrings her hands in the corner. They have history, you know. This whole thing must be terribly awkward for her.

You apologize, afterward, but she just smiles and takes you for a walk. You talk quadrants, and she confesses her own insecurities and inexperience with the ‘concupiscient’ side of things. It’s still a little hard to understand, but you try, and you can tell her hands are shaking when you take them in yours. She's glowing again, and you've never seen a more beautiful person in your entire life.

You kiss her by the long staircase with the tricky stairs, but you’re sober enough not to fall. She doesn’t move at first, but then her hands are around you and she’s kissing you chastely, but firm, as if she wants to imprint this memory in her thinkpan forever.

The troll word sits in your own brain as you attempt to do the same. Breaking apart, you gasp for breath but you’re desperate to know what she tastes like and you’re 15 and she’s _so beautiful_ and you can see the faint aura of her skin glowing when you close your eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” she says as she rests her forehead against your own.

“Yes,” you agree, “I must have picked it up from spending so much time with you.” You could have just said she was beautiful too, like a normal person, you think. She laughs, soft and breathy and you can feel her exhale on your skin. Her lipstick is the same color as your own, yet you wish suddenly it wasn’t so you could see what a mess of each other you’ve made.

 

* * *

 

Your not-mother likes your girlfriend. Somehow this gives you a sort of satisfaction you never realized you needed.

Kanaya smiles at you and you smile back and everything is okay, despite the danger.

 

* * *

 

She spends every night sleeping beside you, and every morning you wake to her sleep-tousled hair, her limbs entangled with yours. You don’t think you’ve smiled this much in so long

After a few years, when things have settled down, your friends help you engage in an odd troll-human bonding ceremony. Roxy walks you down the main street in Can Town wearing a dress Kanaya made you (pointedly not white, you’ve always hated that tradition). Karkat walks behind you with Kanaya, complaining under his breath about how stupid this all is. The Mayor presents you both with rings and you slip them on each others’ hands.

Karkat gives a speech with approximately forty percent less cursing than expected before bursting into tears, and Dave raps a heartfelt refrain mourning the loss of both of your sex lives.

It’s not exactly marriage, and it’s not exactly whatever she’d expected either. She looks at you, her eyes fully green now, and you kiss in town square, with the eager carapacians cheering and clapping, your friends crying and whistling, and it feels like the start of something new.


End file.
